I’ve been feeling uninspired, lately.
The boredom and stasis were making me anxious, so I’m eating pickles on crispbread. Crispbread helps; I find the crunchiness relaxing. Scrontch, scrontch. Does that transmit over text somehow? It’s sort of like the textures on some of the tracks from my anti-anxiety playlist, mostly on Tim Hecker’s Mirages.
Carefree crispbread eating is one of the advantages of being alone, since, at 12% fiber, it leaves my belly grotesquesly bloated for about a day and a half, too much so to go on a date that could result in me exposing it.
Which I’m not annoyed about, the aloneness. Sometimes, women help; other times they don’t. Mostly it’s unclear, with goods and bads. The last time I went out with someone we talked for four straight hours and laughed a lot and had good beer and really clicked and ended up going to her place and having sex for most of the night and the following day, but she lived right next to my office — so, all in all, good ab workout, but I didn’t get to experience coming home from a different metro station than usual which as previously mentioned is mostly what I get out of meeting people; net benefit unclear.
I’ve been trying to find inspiration in other places but mostly end up right where I started. Recently I tried it with the notations in Sigfried Karg-Elert’s pieces — I figured they were probably no better or worse than anything else, as I guide for how to live my life, or just to insert a little bit of non-self into it. Help me become somebody else, as that song says right before the chorus. So, Karg-Elert — but mixed results, again. Like, first I came across the Clarinet sonata, Op. 110, which at some point orders “Wie früher, doppelt so rasch! leicht beschwingt“, which made me feel energized and euphoric like I haven’t in years, love and beer and MDMA all at once, I was ready to start power-skipping around town preaching this amazing new way to let yourself be guided through existence. But then I listened to the amazing Piano sonata No. 3, Op. 105, Patetica, which ends with “in Nichts zerfließend” and then “von hier an immer mehr abebbend“, and immediately felt compelled to be nothing under the stairs for a day and a half.